


Always

by Shujinkakusama



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 00:09:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6063340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shujinkakusama/pseuds/Shujinkakusama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pearl and Garnet’s relationship has grown a lot in 5,000 years. It was never romantic-–until it was. / Fluff, angst, 5,000 words to span just over 5,000 years of relationship. Hurt/comfort. Past Rose/Pearl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meeps](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meeps/gifts).



> This was supposed to be a Valentine's Day fic, and then I got carried away.

It had never been romantic.

 

Gems didn’t need to sleep, but Pearl found that she could slip easily into a doze under very specific circumstances. The first being after… several… sexual trysts with Rose Quartz, which Pearl highly suspected were Rose’s way of trying to force her _to_ sleep in the first place. Not that she minded, if it meant waking up in Rose’s room, nestled in her beloved leader’s arms. No, Pearl quite liked sleeping under those circumstances.

 

Those were few and far between, though. More often, sleep came after fits of crying, after sobbing breakdowns over comrades long lost, corrupted but recognizable, just lost enough that the Crystal Gems had to put them down; bubble them away for their own safety. Pearl never burdened Rose with this. Most often she took off for her own room after such missions, cried silently for hours until exhaustion overtook her—and then, only then, did she allow herself to sleep.

 

Pearl didn’t dream, but she _remembered_ , and she thought that might have been worse. Often, she woke with a start at the last second before her phantom foe attacked, summoning her sword before she was even upright, only to find herself alone. Her room mocked her that way, with a cheerful imitation aurora borealis at the ceiling, and platforms with soothing waterfalls all around, and neither friend nor foe to point her sword at.

 

Sometimes, she’d leave her room afterwards, and Garnet would be waiting for her. Pearl didn’t know how much she knew, but she didn’t need to when the Fusion offered her comrade the safety of her arms. Garnet could crush tougher Gems than Pearl with her gauntlets alone, but instead always drew her into a warm embrace, assured her that the memories were exactly that, and sometimes offered to come sit with her until the lingering feeling of the battlefield passed.

 

Not very often, but sometimes, Pearl would sit in Garnet’s lap and hug her around the shoulders while they talked. Amethyst knew nothing of the corrupted Gems they fought, and Rose liked it that way—but Garnet and Pearl knew them. Sometimes, Pearl’s tears would start up all over again, spilling into Garnet’s multicolored hair, onto her neck, her shoulder—wherever Pearl had pressed her face this time. Garnet never complained. She held Pearl when she cried and wondered at how someone so formidable on the battlefield could care and love so deeply that her heart broke centuries later.

 

Very rarely, Garnet would cry, too. Sometimes from one eye, other times from all three. Her components grieved without really knowing Rose’s army outside of knowing them _as_ Garnet; Garnet grieved for the ones she couldn’t save with her future vision, for those she hadn’t been strong or fast enough to rescue.

 

Pearl grieved most for the sheer numbers, for the hundreds that had been broken down to four, for Gems who were stronger and smarter and more deserving of survival than she was. She’d promised Rose, and she’d promised Garnet, Ruby, and Sapphire that she would survive, and she had—but she knew the same promises had been exchanged between Gems shattered in battle. She knew that it was through a combination of luck and skill alone that she was here now, to weep brokenly into Garnet’s bosom, to dream of the Gems they’d lost forever.

 

Sometimes, when one or both of them would cry until there were no tears left between them, they would lay together to sleep. Pearl liked it; liked that Garnet’s arms never left her smaller frame, liked that she could tuck her face into the Fusion’s shoulder and that she wouldn’t remember, wouldn’t dream at all. Garnet assured her that she experienced the same, that she saw no visions in her sleep, and that she enjoyed the silence.

 

So they slept together in silence, wrapped in each other’s arms, ignoring the rest of the world.

 

But it was never romantic.

 

Even when Garnet pressed soft kisses to Pearl’s wet cheeks and whispered quietly that she was strong, and even when Pearl took her visor from her to stare up into her tri-colored eyes and thank her for being the source of her strength, it wasn’t romantic. There was nothing inappropriate between them. Pearl kissed Garnet sleepily, in a miscalculated attempt to kiss her on the cheek, and Garnet let her without protest. Nothing about it was awkward. Nothing was strange. Because it wasn’t romantic.

 

Pearl’s arm in hers was normal, and they entwined hands on the warp pad on missions where Rose Quartz stayed behind with their new recruit. Pearl held Garnet’s arm when she was nervous, and Garnet pulled her close by the shoulder, and Rose didn’t mind at all—because it wasn’t romantic. For nearly four thousand years, there was nothing at all romantic about the way they fell into each other after a battle, the chaste kisses and long embraces. These were just part of the healing process.

 

They were comrades in each other’s arms; soldiers trying to find a new world without a war to fight in. Bubbling Gems was different. Missions were easy. Missions only kept them up for days when they allowed themselves to think about who the monsters had once been, and it didn’t take many centuries to learn not to do that. Still, when one or both of them remembered, they found each other, found solace in the other’s embrace. It wasn’t romantic, and it didn’t have to be.

 

Steven’s birth changed everything.

 

There had already been a shift; Greg wasn’t Rose’s first pet human, and Pearl had cried to Garnet over countless men and women over the eons. Pearl offered less kisses, and Garnet did the same, not wanting to push. Not wanting to give something more than Rose did. Because that would cross some line, some invisible, unspoken barrier. Garnet couldn’t be more loving than Rose, and Pearl couldn’t be more affectionate than the affection she received from the Gem she had sworn herself to. But Greg was the beginning of the great shift.

 

Pearl didn’t open her door when she cried over Greg, even though she knew Garnet would be waiting for her—save for once, and that was the one time the Fusion had been called away to deal with a monster herself. She cried for most of a decade in total seclusion, putting on bright smiles for Rose and a haughty air in Greg Universe’s presence.

 

Rose announced her pregnancy, and for the first time in eons, Pearl broke down in front of the others, refused any comfort, and eventually fled. Garnet sought her out days later, found her on the familiar Strawberry Battlefield. Pearl was asleep there; curled up in a patch of flowers and broken weaponry, and Garnet sat, surprised to see that her Gem was projecting memories again—of the two of them, this time.

 

Garnet had seen many of Pearl’s memories, been there for many more, but it was strange to see the smaller Gem’s vision of the two of them, curled together on the floor of Pearl’s room, at the edge of the main pool. The Fusion lowered herself to sit down behind Pearl, watched briefly, and then turned her attention to Pearl’s face, contorted by sadness even in her sleep. She reached down, smoothing Pearl’s bangs away from her Gem, and the projection immediately flickered and vanished.

 

“…Pearl?” Garnet asked quietly, but the smaller Gem didn’t stir, so Garnet didn’t withdraw her hand. Instead, she slowly combed her fingers through Pearl’s bangs, watching as tension slowly ebbed away from her shoulders and torso. She seemed to sleep through it all, and Garnet finally drew her hand away when she felt she was being too indulgent.

 

This, apparently, was what woke Pearl; tired blue eyes opened slowly, still stinging from several long bouts of crying.

 

“Garnet?” Pearl asked, but she didn’t rise, wouldn’t look anywhere but straight ahead onto the battlefield.

 

“Mm.”

 

Pearl heaved a sigh, and it rattled in her raw throat. “I knew it’d be you.”

 

It had always been Garnet. But the Fusion knew what she meant, and somehow, it made her heart ache. “You wanted Rose to come for you.”

 

Pearl shoved herself upright, whirling on Garnet with a scowl. “Shouldn’t I? Shouldn’t _she?_ I _belong_ to her, Garnet! Doesn’t that mean anything to her? And now she’s going to just…!”

 

“Pearl,” Garnet said soothingly, “I volunteered to look for you. I’m sure Rose would have come if I hadn’t.” She wasn’t sure when, exactly, Rose would have come looking—she was occupied with Amethyst’s breakdown, with the news Pearl hadn’t stayed around to hear. Garnet hadn’t allowed herself the luxury of falling apart, not alone. She needed Pearl for that.

 

Pearl looked stung, but begrudgingly accepted the reasoning. Garnet was, she was certain, the only one who could find her without having to scour the entire planet to do so. She deflated easily, and when Garnet opened her arms, she inched forward, hugging her best friend with a death grip that betrayed her heartbreak. Garnet hugged her back, embraced her smaller companion, and pressed her lips to the crown of her head.

 

“Thank you,” Pearl whispered, “For coming for me.”

 

Garnet paused, heaving a sigh through her nose. “Don’t thank me yet,” she said, “I have more news… and trust me, neither of us is going to like it.”

 

As always, Garnet was right.

 

The news that Rose’s child could only exist through possessing her Gem, through _being_ the new Rose Quartz, shook Pearl badly enough that she could have vanished into her Gem on grief alone. Garnet wouldn’t have blamed her; it took everything she had to stay Fused, to stay _Garnet_ for this conversation. Ruby was horrified by Rose’s decision, and Sapphire was torn between grief and the desire to understand, but she shared enough of Ruby’s horror that their minds remained one.

 

And Garnet…

 

Garnet held Pearl, who howled with anguish, pounding on Garnet’s shoulder hard enough that it hurt—but not enough to bruise. The difference in their strength was obvious now, as Pearl struggled and fought in her grief—Garnet could hold her by the shoulders alone, and Pearl couldn’t get away. She screamed, she cried, she asked _why_ more times than Garnet cared to count, and Garnet could not answer any of them. The Fusion could see the fight draining out of her, watched Pearl slowly dissolve into dry sobbing and hoarse whispers.

 

“I can’t,” Pearl said abruptly, voice raw and jagged, and Garnet leaned in to hear her. “I can’t live without her, Garnet.”

 

Three eyes hidden by a visor went round at that, at the implications, and Garnet gripped Pearl’s bony shoulders tightly. “We have to,” she insisted, and Pearl shook her head miserably, cheeks stained with tears. “Pearl, we _have_ to!”

 

“I don’t _want_ to!” Pearl sobbed, “Why wasn’t I enough? What _good_ is he? _Why is she leaving us_?!”

 

“We don’t _know_!” Garnet exclaimed, tugging Pearl forward into her arms. Pearl crumpled into her limply, fight finally out of her, and she brought her own arms around Garnet’s waist. Visions of futures where Pearl, too, abandoned her flashed through her mind rapidly, faster than she could discard them. She scrunched her eyes shut, all three threatening to well up with tears now. “I don’t… Pearl, I need you there, too. I don’t know _why_ she’s decided this, but I do know I _need you_ , or everything will fall apart. Amethyst, Steven--” Pearl’s shoulders tightened in her grip at the name, and Garnet held her more tightly. “—none of us, Pearl, will be able to go on without you.” Her voice dropped. “Especially not me.”

 

Pearl didn’t understand then, and wouldn’t for some time—it would be fifteen full years before she could really understand what Garnet meant. But the raw emptiness in Garnet’s normally steady voice, the broken hitch in her breathing, and the dampness that transferred from Garnet’s cheek to her temple was enough. Pearl clung tightly, promised to be there for her best friend, no matter what, no matter how difficult the coming years would be without Rose to guide them—and when Garnet dipped to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth, something clicked.

 

It had always been romantic.

 

This—between them, their friendship, their _relationship_ —had always toed the line, and Pearl realized centuries late that _this_ had always been love, and that love was different in some significant way from her love for Rose.

 

Garnet loved her back.

 

Wholly and completely, Garnet returned her sentiments—whatever they were. Pearl was in no position at current to dissect her emotions, but she did pull Garnet’s face back in for another chaste kiss to seal the promise.

 

“I’ll stay,” Pearl whispered, and to her surprise Garnet had to phase away her visor, tears flowing freely from her eyes. The light was blinding, and Pearl blinked rapidly as her eyes tried to adjust. She shook her head, leaning in to kiss away the Fusion’s tears, the way Garnet had for her scores of times before. “I won’t leave you, no matter what, Garnet.”

 

It was a hard promise to keep.

 

The years that followed were excruciatingly difficult.

 

Rose left a gigantic hole in their lives when she gave up her physical form. Amethyst rebelled, leaving Pearl to mourn alone, and Garnet to fill a role she had never wanted in the first place. Her future vision made her the natural choice for the de facto leader of the remaining Crystal Gems, especially while Steven was too young and—apparently—without his mother’s memories or powers.

 

Pearl holed up for weeks at a time, staying in her room. Garnet didn’t know if she cried, or if she dreamed; Pearl wouldn’t speak of it. Wouldn’t come to her after Rose left. There was some unspoken part of her loss there, some refusal to lean on Garnet for the first time in eons. Garnet didn’t understand it, but after a few years, she stopped waiting outside Pearl’s room.

 

But that didn’t mean Pearl was exempt from missions where her skills were needed now more than ever. Pearl threw one of several fits the first time Garnet instructed her in battle; the first time, Amethyst narrowly defeated the monster before anything else could go wrong. In turn, Pearl screamed in Garnet’s face before bursting into tears and fleeing the scene.

 

The next fit came weeks later, when Garnet had tried to eke a well-deserved apology out of Pearl. They had to be a team, now more than ever, and fighting amongst themselves wasn’t an option—Pearl counterpointed that Garnet had no leadership experience, that she _wasn’t Rose_ , that she didn’t know what she was saying. Garnet denied none of this, only that she expected Pearl to keep her promise.

 

It was a week more before Pearl apologized properly, and Garnet let her say her piece without interruption. She had already known perfectly well that Pearl didn’t mean the _way_ she’d said things, that she hadn’t meant to hurt her by lashing out, but it didn’t change that she’d done exactly that. Garnet had kept her visor firmly in place, refused to cry, but granted forgiveness when Pearl had said her piece.

 

The change wasn’t good, they both realized, even if they had ended on a hug. Pearl’s outbursts became less frequent after that—and Garnet didn’t chase her down when she ran away.

 

In a few years, they’d formed new patterns. And in those years, Rose’s successor had grown out of infancy and into childhood. Steven, they quickly discovered, was not Rose, and the remaining Crystal Gems were surprised to find that they all loved him just the same. In different ways, to be sure, but the more time each spent with him, the more they grew to understand what Rose had never been able to offer them. Steven loved vibrantly and unconditionally, hid nearly nothing from his surrogate family; by contrast, the Crystal Gems, in their grief, played at normalcy for him. Pearl took it upon herself to teach him about his heritage, hoping to see some glimmer of Rose in the boy, while Amethyst welcomed the newcomer—the youngest Gem—and Garnet…

 

She loved the boy, but like everything else, she had to do so from afar. Her new responsibilities as leader, her oversized mantle, and her secrets that kept themselves. Steven called her mysterious like it was a good thing.

 

Pearl had never stopped reaching for Garnet’s arm, though, even when Garnet reached back less. Actually, it seemed she did so more than ever after Steven’s powers emerged. Pearl was afraid, she admitted in private, in a rare moment of confidence that resembled those of centuries past. It was after her first reformation in ten years, after being run through by her own Holo-Pearl. Garnet assured her that everything would be all right; Pearl was a remarkable fighter, and mistakes were natural when things were still in such turmoil without Rose.

 

Pearl still didn’t understand, but she thanked her, and for the first time in years Garnet kissed her hair and cheeks, and Pearl hugged her so tightly that she thought she might burst.

 

Garnet wasn’t much of a leader, and she was the first to admit it. She relied on Pearl and Amethyst’s judgment in battle, focusing on protecting Steven when he joined on missions, and that left her shortsighted even when she could see into the future. Still, protecting Steven was paramount.

 

When Peridot’s hand ship appeared in the sky, Garnet had no opportunity to take Pearl aside privately. There were too few futures where they survived, too many where this was the end of the lives they knew. What mattered was Steven; he was the hope for the Earth.

 

Steven wasn’t supposed to return to the beach.

 

Pearl and Amethyst hadn’t been able to maintain Opal in the boy’s presence, and that scared Garnet. But there was no time for fear, no time for hesitation. Steven would be discovered, and the futures where Jasper got her hands on him were altogether unacceptable. Too many potential futures where they failed, where Beach City’s residents escaped only long enough for Gemkind to come back to Earth to finish their work… Steven protected his family with his mother’s shield, dashing any hopes Garnet had that he would be able to slip away unharmed.

 

It was fight or die now, with an oversized Jasper bearing down on them and a ship equipped with technology beyond comprehension, and Garnet would do anything she could to ensure her comrades’ survival—because that _was_ love. And in that moment she finally understood the way Pearl would throw herself in front of Rose Quartz, even after centuries of telling her not to, after Pearl had finally unlearned to show love by dying. Garnet had no plans to die, no intention of sacrificing herself, but for Earth, for Steven, Amethyst, and perhaps especially Pearl, she would do it.

 

And the Gem Destabilizer ran her through, with a current that could disrupt even the love that made her whole. Amethyst gasped, and Garnet couldn’t describe the sound that Pearl made, but knew it was the stuff of nightmares. Her body deteriorated faster than her consciousness; she fell, saw the look of horror on Steven’s face, and wanted to assure him of—something, something to soothe his fear, but it was too late; she vanished in a cloud of smoke, leaving her Gems in the sand, in the imprint where she should have been.

 

It wasn’t romantic at all when Pearl came to her a few nights later, came to _Garnet’s_ room, with tears in her eyes and new nightmares to contend with. Garnet herself hadn’t slept, though she supposed that being dead was somewhat _like_ sleeping. Pearl had broken down in her arms, admitted to scores of fears that haunted her, too, now that Homeworld was back and a real looming threat. Their army had barely staved them off once before, and there had been hundreds of Gems then—and this time, Garnet…

 

Garnet could reassure Pearl, could promise her that there were no immediate threats, no futures looming in the short term where her fears were coming to pass, and she did. But Pearl was inconsolable on one point, and that was the topic of Garnet’s brush with death. Pearl cried so hard that she couldn’t breathe, and Garnet had to escort her out of the Boiling Room to another part of the Temple, carrying her bodily and whispering soothing words that she didn’t think Pearl actually heard.

 

Pearl cried long and hard, baring her soul to Garnet in ways that she never had. Her fears about the return of Homeworld Gems to Earth were obvious and understandable; her fears that she would somehow live longer than Amethyst or Steven, that their faces would be a blurred memory the way so many others’ were, less so.

 

The Fusion knew Pearl, knew her better than either of them could gauge, and could promise her with certainty that she would forget nothing. Pearl still cried, but seemed comforted; it wasn’t very much longer before she had cried herself out, and Garnet simply held her, let her sleep. Her Gem flickered to life a few times, casting a blue light over the room, and Garnet rocked her and whispered in soothing tones until the dreams faded.

 

It wasn’t romantic this time, but when Pearl woke to Garnet’s arms around her, sitting in a secluded part of the Temple that they all but never visited, Pearl didn’t think she could have felt safer _or_ happier. Garnet, it seemed, had fallen asleep with her, visor slipping down her nose to reveal one closed eye. Gently, Pearl removed the visor for her, let it disappear into thin air.

 

Garnet was perfect asleep, breathing steadily even though Gems didn’t need to. Pearl watched her, eyes still stinging from her earlier crying fit, and even if the pieces hadn’t all fallen into place just yet, she realized that now more than ever, Garnet was the most important being left in her world. She tucked her face into the Fusion’s shoulder and fell asleep again, content with the closeness, content to bask in the reality where her dreams couldn’t reach her. Garnet was alive and well, and the future was clear. For now, that was solace enough.

 

But the solace didn’t last; each unsuccessful attempt to find Malachite weighed heavily on Pearl’s heart and Peridot’s escape at the Kindergarten didn’t help. Everything was falling apart; hope seemed farther away with each passing day.

 

Peridot’s signal to Yellow Diamond was the last straw; Pearl panicked. The world was ending. Fusing with Garnet to become Sardonyx took her worries and fears and replaced them with warmth and safety, bright lights and confidence and Ruby and Sapphire’s love. She needed that. She needed it more than anything. Even if it meant deceiving the Gem she loved so dearly, Pearl couldn’t take being herself for another invasion.

 

It wasn’t love that motivated her deception, but fear—and that fear nearly cost her everything.

 

Garnet didn’t speak to her for weeks, and Pearl’s nightmares grew steadily worse. With no one but herself to blame, she searched tirelessly for Peridot, combed the world without success. Pearl fell into her grief, into her depression, and it consumed her entirely. If finding Peridot was the only way to get Garnet to speak to her again, she’d cover every inch of the planet, even the oceans if she had to.

 

And she did have to. Because without Garnet, Pearl realized that she couldn’t stand on her own two legs. Garnet hadn’t replaced Rose, not really, but somewhere along the way she had become just as necessary for the once proud renegade to function. The end of the world was still coming, could be upon them at any moment, and Pearl knew that she’d lost her will to fight for anything but Steven. The loss of Garnet’s arm when she reached out, of her small smiles, of her guarded gaze—Pearl knew it fell on her shoulders, that it was her fault alone, and she had to make it right with Peridot’s capture.

 

She was wrong, of course. Pearl wasn’t omniscient, took things too literally for her own good sometimes, and couldn’t see past her own nose in her grief. Garnet had to spell it out for her, and it took the both of them nearly dying for it to click—for Pearl to understand why Garnet needed her, too; why her best friend was so devastated that she _unfused_ over her treachery. Pearl had always considered Garnet important, but never saw herself as worthy of the same regard.

 

She was, after all, just a Pearl, like any other Pearl. She was replaceable.

 

Garnet had never thought so, and Pearl had never fully understood.

 

_You have an impact too. There are times when I look up to you for strength._

_You must choose to be strong, so we can move forward._

_So I can trust you again._

Garnet didn’t forgive easily, and Pearl knew she would never forget. But her vote of confidence was enough.

 

Weeks later, when Pearl caught Garnet doing laundry outside the Temple, they’d embraced properly—not like the awkward tangle of gangly limbs in the trap, but a real embrace, eye-to-eye and heart to heart. Garnet lifted Pearl off of the ground to sit her on the dryer, and Pearl had apologized again for her betrayal. They finally talked their respective ways through the whole mess; through Pearl’s fears, through Garnet’s pain, and when they came to a mutual understanding, they came to the decision to bench Sardonyx unless absolutely necessary. Pearl was the one to suggest it, and Garnet had agreed with some reluctance.

 

But it was compromise, and that was a step forward. After some time, Garnet sat up on the dryer with her, and they watched the sunset together. The moon rose, and stars dusted the night sky, and the two Gems were silent for a very long time.

 

“I’ll be strong from now on,” Pearl said abruptly, back straight, but her eyes were glassy and held a far-off look to them. She reached hesitantly for Garnet’s arm, and the Fusion let her, watched her out of the corner of two eyes as long fingers curled around her wrist. “But… can I still…” Pearl trailed off, worrying her bottom lip.

 

Garnet waited a long moment for her to speak again, but she didn’t, and the Fusion turned toward her companion, reaching to catch her chin with her unoccupied hand. Ruby’s Gem was warm against Pearl’s skin, and brought her back into the moment as Garnet’s hand moved to cup her cheek. “You can always come to me,” Garnet said, “That isn’t weakness.”

 

“But I—“

 

“This,” Garnet corrected her, cutting her off. “This is good. Healthy. This is how we should be, Pearl; we should be able to communicate, and be open, and trust each other completely.”

 

“I do,” Pearl said hastily, “I trust you completely, Garnet, I always have, it’s _myself_ I don’t—“

 

“Ssh. I trust you,” Garnet said quietly, phasing away her visor to peer directly at Pearl. The alabaster Gem’s cheeks colored slightly, and Garnet managed a smile. “I trust you enough for us both. You don’t ever need to worry that I don’t.”

 

Pearl opened her mouth to protest, and Garnet stopped her with a kiss. It was chaste as ever, but Pearl knew now that the kiss was more than camaraderie; and when she closed her eyes to lean into it, she wanted to make sure Garnet knew that she meant the same.

 

In all the years that they had known each other, for all the kisses they’d exchanged, there was something new and different now. It had taken Pearl fifteen years to understand why Garnet needed her, and what that need came from—and the answer had been staring her in the face all along.

 

Garnet drew away, and Pearl was slow to reopen her eyes, but she did and found that Garnet hadn’t gone far; in point of fact, she was still almost within range for another kiss, and Pearl flushed all over again.

 

“Garnet?” Pearl asked quietly, gripping the Fusion’s wrist tightly.

 

“Mm?” Garnet’s expression was guarded, carefully neutral, and her eyes remained half-lidded after the kiss. But her hand remained on Pearl’s cheek, and Pearl’s fingertips found the ridge of her palm, sliding over the back of her hand to hold it in place.

 

“If I… if I told you I loved you,” Pearl started slowly, “Would that be inappropriate?”

 

“If?” Garnet quirked an eyebrow, “Pearl, I just kissed you, and you kissed back. I think that’d be inappropriate if you didn’t.”

 

An extremely satisfying wash of teal spread across Pearl’s face, down her long neck and slim shoulders. “What I _meant_ was—“ Pearl started, then, abruptly, caught herself with a nervous laugh. “Ah, it would, wouldn’t it? I just—all of this… what we’ve been doing, for so long. You don’t mind if I… interpret it as romantic? Or, rather, if that’s my intent?”

 

“This is a very round-about confession,” Garnet said gently, leaning down slowly to press a tender kiss to her lips. “I don’t mind. It’s always been romantic, hasn’t it? That’s been my intent.”

 

Blue eyes went doubly round at that, and Pearl had to consider several thousand years of chaste kisses and linked arms, of entwined fingers and long embraces, and in retrospect, it seemed perfectly silly that she’d never noticed. Never really grasped it. It had been, all along, and Pearl finally understood why Garnet had always been the one that she ran to when her heart was breaking. Why Garnet had always taken her in without any hesitation.

 

Because it had always been romantic.

 

And it always would be.


End file.
